


True Colors

by Winchester_Baggins



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angel Marriage (Supernatural), Angel Mating (Supernatural), Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Angelic Grace Bonds (Supernatural), Angelic Grace Sex (Supernatural), Angels are Dicks (Supernatural), Background Naomi (Supernatural), Background Rowena MacLeod, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Blood, Blood and Injury, Bottom Castiel (Supernatural), Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues (Supernatural), Castiel Has Self-Worth Issues (Supernatural), Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Castiel Wants Dean Winchester to be Happy, Castiel Watches Netflix (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester Get Married, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Dorks, Castiel in the Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's Handprint (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester in the Men of Letters Bunker, Dean Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Dean Winchester Has Abandonment Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Siblings, Dean Winchester's Soul, Demisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Domestic, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Eye Contact, Eye Sex, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fuck Or Die, Grace-Soul Bonding (Supernatural), Handprint Kink (Supernatural), Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Injured Castiel (Supernatural), Love Confessions, M/M, Magical Bond, Magical Healing Cock, Mating Rituals, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Mild Gore, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mother Hen Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Powered Down Castiel, References to Depression, Romantic Soulmates, Rowena MacLeod's Attack Dog Spell, Sam Winchester Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester is So Done, Self-Harming Castiel (Supernatural), Self-Sacrifice, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Soft Castiel (Supernatural), Soul Sex, Soulmates, Spells & Enchantments, Suicidal Thoughts, Third Wheel Sam Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:40:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28889991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_Baggins/pseuds/Winchester_Baggins
Summary: The attack dog spell has opened and old injury that Naomi that tried to erase from Castiel's memory.  It is from a ritual he initiated in hell when he saved Dean.  His grace is bleeding out.  He has two options, go to Heaven and ask for help, or complete the ritual with Dean.  The only problem is that it is an ancient Inochian bonding ritual.  So angel marriage...  He had best think of a grand death bed confession just in case.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 75





	True Colors

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed  
> There's a lot to unpack here. I wrote this while I was recovering from Covid-19 and the pain from the show burrying its gays was pretty fresh (I'm queer. It felt personal). This is a blatant fix it. I'm not even going to pretend that it isn't. It takes place after Rowena's attack dog spell on Cas in the beginning of S11. I thought that S11 had so many potential. Please remember that you can change destiny. You do matter. Always keep fighting. We will not be silenced.

True Colors - Cyndi Lauper  
When he returned from his mission, he had to go to Heaven’s medics immediately. What he’d had to do in order to hold the Dean’s soul, patch it up, and return it to its body had hurt him deeply. He still felt the ache sometimes, deep in his grace, when he was with Dean Winchester. The thing that Castiel had had to do was trigger magic from an ancient Enochian mating ritual. Dean’s soul had been horribly damaged. To return it to his body now would break him. The ritual was quite simple, Castiel would amputate a part of his grace and leave it in Dean’s care. This would act as stitches for Dean’s soul. Dean would then leave a shard of his fractured soul with Castiel. Castiel never thought to take any of it for himself. Dean’s soul must be whole. He knew this instinctively as soon as he wrapped himself around the thrashing thing. It was too good, too righteous, for him to keep a piece of it without Dean’s express consent. The magic surrounding the ritual dictates that the ritual must be completed. If not, the incomplete partner shall suffer. Castiel didn’t know the specifics on what that meant, but upon his return to heaven, medics had been dispatched in order to repair his wounded grace and hopefully perform some sort of meracle. His grace contorted and bled on the floor of heaven’s medical offices. He had come close to death more than once since his arrival. The medical officers hadn’t thought that he would have the strength to fly away, to contact Dean. His whole being needed to be near him. It needed to be near his soul. He didn’t want to complete the ritual. There Dean was too fragile and precious for that. Not to mention, heaven did not want him forming emotional bonds. He just wanted Dean to know that he was Castiel. They had met in hell. Castiel had pulled him from perdition. Castiel literally held his soul together now as it healed. He had hoped that maybe Dean, as a vessel, would be able to hear him, see him… When Dean had screamed and covered his ears, Castiel had let himself drift back to heaven. His grace hemorrhaging out on the floor once again.  
Castiel only remembered this after Naomi’s death. He did not remember any of his near death experience or the ritual until his memories came back as they were triggered. Castiel had thought that he had gone to that gas station upon receiving orders from Heaven. He thought that the pain had been from old battle wounds. Naomi had taken so much from him. So many of his memories were lies. His real memories played out over and over as he struggled with the attack dog curse. Castiel thought of how his strand of grace must not hold Dean together anymore. He simply held that part of Cas inside himself. After all they had been through now, Castiel knew how much he loved Dean. He selfishly coveted the knowledge that they were partially bonded. As he sat in the bunker, watching “Netflix.” He felt that old wound open and began to seep again. He couldn’t go to heaven for medicine now. Many of the angels would let him die if they know. At least it was a slow bleed this time. He had time to think of what to say to the Winchesters. He had time to plan how he was going to say what he needed to say. He thought of returning Sam’s calls, but picking up the phone was simply too much effort. When Dean buzzed him, he mustered up the energy to pick it up.  
“Hey Cas. We’re heading back now. Sam’s been trying to call you. You okay?”  
Castiel felt his face split into a grin. He was in a lot of pain, but it was always good to hear Dean’s voice.  
“No… I’m unwell…”  
“Me and Sam are here man. What can we do?”  
Cas could hear Sam asking Dean if he was okay.  
“A long time ago, a ritual caused my grace to bleed profusely. The old injury seems to have opened up. The attack dog spell may be the cause. It tore at my grace until I obeyed.”  
Dean asked him in his infuriatingly lovable way, what they could do. Once you get back. I’ll explain.  
“Dammit Cas.”  
Sam then took the phone from Dean and proceeded to recommend some “less trashy” things to watch on netflix.  
“Hang in there, okay?”  
“Thank you Sam.”

Sam and Dean arrived at the bunker late that night to find it silent. Dean didn’t like it. Cas had sounded off on the phone. Of course, he and Sam had been worried about Cas since he’d had to start recovering from Rowena’s spell. It had only been a couple days, but Cas had sounded downright sick when he’d called. They found him in his room, wrapped up like an angel burrito in blankets that Sam and Dean had given him. He clutched an empty mug and squinted at Sam’s laptop like it contained some great cosmic puzzle. It sent a weird feeling through Dean’s chest, which scared him, so he shoved it away.  
“Hello.”  
Cas said. He looked tired. His under eyes were puffy and he was pale.  
“Hey Cas.”  
Was really all Dean could manage to say. Cas looked like he could use a mug of something warm, some comfort food, and a hug, or something. His urge to nurture was threatening to get the better of him. Sam cleared his throat loudly.  
“So Cas, you had something to tell us, right?”  
Cas nodded.  
“Please, come in.”  
Cas sighed and shifted so that Dean could see his hands. One of them showed a thin line of glowing white light, like angel grace was peeking out of it. The cut was deep and it extended below the sleeve. It was long, thin, and extended down, from Cas’s palm, disappearing under his sleeve.  
“What happened Cas?”  
Dean sat down next to him, taking the hand without thinking. The wound reminded him of the times they cut themselves to perform rituals. Cas let out a little sigh.  
“My grace is bleeding out slowly. If I had a medic in heaven, they could help. I can’t exactly do that now.”  
“What can we do?”  
Sam asked as he crossed his arms and leaned forward.  
“Why can’t you heal it?”  
Dean asked. He found himself putting pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, as if that would work.  
“This injury is to my grace, not my vessel. Moreover, it was inflicted in the midst of a ritual that was not finished. Finishing the ritual would, in effect, staunch the bleeding.”  
“Then let's finish it.”  
Dean insisted. Cas gave him sad eyes. He Cas gave him sad eyes. When Cas gave him sad eyes, it was usually his fault.  
“I can’t ask that of you.”  
Sam pulled up the little desk chair.  
“What do you mean Cas?”  
Cas’s eyes darted to the floor and back up.  
“I performed the first part of the ritual on Dean’s soul. It was a bonding ritual, meant for angels. His soul was far too injured to be inside his body. I had to use a strand of my grace to hold him together.”  
Dean squeezed Cas’s hand. The guilt welled up inside. Cas was bleeding out now because he saved Dean. That was sick.  
“What are the other parts Cas?”  
“Dean…”  
“What do you need?”  
Cas gave him the sad eyes again.  
“There are words read in Enochian. Then you would take part of your soul and place it over my wound. The ritual needs two more things.”  
Cas paused. Dean licked his dry lips.  
“You wanna elaborate?”  
“There is a sigil that needs to be drawn in holy oil. The bond must then be sealed.”  
Dean felt that weird swoop in his stomach. That stupid ache in his chest.  
“How?”  
Sam cleared his throat loudly again. Cas averted his gaze and rubbed at his neck.  
“I believe the wording is ‘an act of love.’”  
“Oh for crying out loud…”  
Sam shook his head at Dean.  
“So are you saying like the princess kissing the frog?”  
Dean asked. He was hopeful it was that. Sam kept looking from Dean to Cas and began rubbing his face aggressively.  
“That isn’t specified.”  
“Let's do it.”  
“Dean…”  
Sam shook his head again. He sighed, as if he were in a room full of idiots.  
“I’ll get the holy oil then.”  
Sam left the two of them sitting on Cas’s bed with Dean holding Cas’s bleeding arm. Cas told him that he didn’t have to do this. Dean knew that, if he could save Cas, that he did have to.

Castiel wrote down the enochian that Dean needed to say and the sigils that they needed to paint on each other before they got started. The three of them gathered in the basement. Sam brought the holy oil and Dean told him to shut up for some reason. Castiel wasn’t sure it was warranted. Sam hadn’t been saying anything. Sam insisted upon staying. Castiel told him he wasn’t sure that that was for the best. Souls were highly combustible, after all. Sam told Dean, with a twinkle in his eye, that Cas would be gentle. Dean proceeded to call Sam a bitch.  
As charming as Sam and Dean usually were, Castiel was beginning to feel a little light headed. He knelt beside the jug of holy oil and raised an eyebrow. Dean knelt beside him and held out a hand. Castiel wordlessly poured a small amount into Dean’s palm before shrugging off his coat and blazer. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, before stripping out of it. He wordlessly allowed Dean to paint the enochian bonding sigil over his chest in holy oil, something that could really hurt him if it caught on fire. He took care as he did the same for Dean. The warmth of Dean’s skin and the slide of the oil made him feel pleasantly tingly. The lightheadedness doubled when Dean read out the bonding words. They made his heart ache. If Dean knew what they meant, he would never read them to him. They were words that Castiel knew he, himself meant down to the core. But Dean saw him as a friend. Moreover, Dean was much more hung up on the physical things like gender presentation. Frankly, Castiel would love Dean if Dean were four feet tall with no genitals and purple skin. Castiel was glad that Dean’s body looked the way it did. It suited him.  
“Cas?”  
Castiel blinked. Dean’s face was very close. He had stopped reciting the enochian incantations. One of Dean’s rough hands cupped Castiel’s cheek. The other rested just behind his ear.  
“You in there man? You aren’t gonna pass out are you?”  
Castiel could smell holy oil on Dean’s hands. He supposed he must have been further gone than he had initially thought. He simply locked eyes with Dean. Knowing that Dean would need verbal reassurance, he said.  
“No. I’m here.”  
Dean let out an explosive sigh. Castiel’s hands shook as he took the paper from Dean and read from it. He did his best to pour himself into the words, to let Dean know he meant them.  
“Dean… you don’t have to let me do this… Souls are very volatile. Yours is especially powerful. It will be painful and invasive.”  
“Do it Cas.”  
Dean’s Jaw was set, but his eyes were wide and naked. Castiel nodded.  
“Hold onto me.”  
Dean placed both hands atop Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel looked into his eyes one more time, silently pleading with him to back out. When Dean didn’t so much as flinch, Castiel squeezed his shoulder with one hand. He closed his eyes, thankful for the darkness. His bleeding grace ached for the soul that was in front of it. It knew where to go. He allowed it to direct his hand, pushing through Dean’s body as carefully as possible. He felt Dean’s head fall against his shoulder. Dean hid his face in Castiel’s neck and he made a small sound. Castiel’s grace rejoiced at the reunion with Dean’s soul. It flicked it with tendrils aand swirled around it in weak spirals. Dean was breathing hard against his neck.  
“Damn…”  
Dean’s soul burned brighter than any sun. It seemed to recognise him, unfurling and expanding in a roaring joyous flame. There were no words for it. Dean knew him in his soul and his soul welcomed Castiel with profound love. It opened itself to him the way Dean usually couldn’t. It was the most pure a declaration could get. Castiel’s grace, injured though it was, practically snuggled up to Dean’s soul. Castiel posed the question, not in words, but in intent; may I?  
Dean’s soul in true Dean fashion, tore itself asunder without question in order to mend his wounds. The strand of Castiel’s grace, still left from when the ritual started, fit itself over the wound in Dean’s soul. It was as if Castiel’s need to protect Dean even extended to that torn part of himself. Castiel brushed Dean’s soul one last time before leaving. As his grace pulled back, Dean’s soul reached for it. It didn’t latch on, but extended itself, as if it longed for more contact. Castiel knew that that would be dangerous, but all he wanted to do was turn around and envelop himself in warm light.  
Emerging from this state was like coming back to life. It was sharp, cold, and disorienting. His shoulders burned where Dean clutched him. Dean was there. Tremors rolled through his frame. He still had his face pressed into Castiel’s neck. His eyes were wet. Castiel could feel the heat in his own hands. The hand he had not used to contact Dean’s soul had burned Dean’s skin.  
“Shit.”  
Dean Groaned.  
“Shit, that was you. That was you, wasn’t it Cas?”  
Castiel could feel his neck warming.  
“I don’t know who else it would have been.”  
“Wise ass.”  
“Guys!”  
The two of them jumped. Castiel had almost forgotten Sam was there.  
“I’m a fan of snuggling as much as the next person, but the ritual isn’t over.”  
Sam was right. Castiel still had a gaping wound from his palm, to past his elbow. It was leaking less grace, but the bleeding would resume soon, if they didn’t wrap this up. A part of him resented Sam. He had been enjoying this closeness with Dean. He knew, for sure, that Dean’s soul loved him. While Castiel was busy thinking, Dean let out a huffing sigh, grabbed Castiel’s face, and kissed his mouth. It was a rough, hungry kiss. Castiel froze in shock before melting into it. He felt starved for Dean’s effection. Dean deepened the kiss. Cas allowed himself to taste each molecule. He loved each one. Sam infuriated him again by coughing.  
“I’m just gonna go put a “Just Married” sign on the Impala. Don’t mind me.”  
Dean left, chasing Sam and bellowing at him playfully. 

When Dean returned to the basement, he found Cas leaning where he’d left him. The wound in his arm hadn’t quite closed.  
“Hey.”  
Dean sat on the cold stone next to Cas. He felt like he had swallowed a rock.  
“Didn’t it work?”  
Cas gave him the sad eyes again.  
“I think the ritual isn’t finished.”  
Dean knew what that meant in theory. This kind of magic came up from time to time.  
“You think we need to…”  
“Sex magic is very powerful Dean.”  
Dean opened his mouth, tried to think of a good response to that, and closed it again.  
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it, but… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable…”  
Cas rubbed at his neck. Dean recognised that mannerism. It was something Cas did when the two of them talked about sex alone. He hadn’t really figured out that Cas was embarrassed because he had a crush. That was it though. It was more than a crush. Dean had felt his grace. If Cas was made of anything, it was pure love with all the heartache that went with it. Cas had been glorious, and joyful, and sweet, and so sad. Above all, Cas had been in a lot of pain, and Cas loved him. Dean felt the tug to be near his grace, to wrap it up in himself and stop the hurt. Cas was right, it hurt like a son of a bitch, but he didn’t care. Cas loved him too… The caress of Cas’s grace had been so achingly tender, that he’d never wanted it to go. Cas always had to leave him though, so he’d just let him leave.  
“Cas, I’d prefer to, you know, take my time. Do it right. But I think magic and rituals don’t really care. This is your life. With what I know now… Cas, I’m more than ‘not opposed’ to it, okay? In fact, if anyone but you said that, I’d think you didn’t want to.”  
Dean found himself scratching the back of his head. The tips of his ears down to his chest burned pink. For once, Cas wasn’t giving him sad eyes. Cas was smiling. Cas had really nice gummy awkward smiles that made Dean’s chest feel weird.  
“So are we doing this?”  
“Romantic.”  
But Cas’s eyes were sparkling as he made to stand up. Dean had to catch him as he stumbled.  
“Hey now! Guess we better do this huh?”  
“I guess we should hurry.”  
Cas nuzzled unto Dean’s neck.  
“Dude, are you smelling me right now?”  
Castiel paused.  
“I like the way you smell…”  
Dean barked out a laugh.  
“Right now we’re walking to my room. I got the stuff we need in there. You can sniff me all you want in there Romeo.”

They were clumsy and awkward, but they made it up stairs. Cas flopped down onto Dean’s bed. His chest still glistened with holy oil. Dean’s dick seemed to find that interesting. While he was busy getting the lube, Cas was busy ridding himself of pants and drawers and oh wow that was a dick. Dean was ready to have a freak out. He usually did, right before messing around with a man, but that didn’t really happen. Cas was really just Cas. Dean had let him touch his soul, for crying out loud. As if reading his mind, Cas spoke.  
“I’ve never been with a male human before. I’ve also never been with someone I care for.”  
“I’ve only got a little experience in the dude department.”  
Dean confessed as he untied his boots.  
“I’ve also never done any angel bonding rituals. It's a first for everybody.”  
He could feel Cas’s hand smooth over his back as he removed his socks.  
“Do you think we need to go all the way for the magic to work? Or will a little frotting be enough?”  
Dean stood and unbuckled his belt, letting his pants puddle on the floor.  
“Either is fine, but a little rubbing is faster, which is what we need.”  
Cas made a humming sound and tugged at the hem of his underwear. Grabby bastard.  
“The only specific details I know are that it needs to be an ‘act of love.’ I feel that penetration might actually be necessary. If it weren’t, kissing would have done the trick.”  
Dean supposed he was right.  
“Okay. I’m gonna make an executive decision and say I’m topping. You're hurting. Just lie there and tell me if anything feels off to you.”  
“Dean, how would I know?”  
“If it's painful, Cas. It's not really supposed to hurt your asshole, okay? It's only supposed to burn in the beginning when I stretch your muscles out.”  
Cas nodded. Dean’s mouth was dry. Cas was stretched out on his back, naked, in Dean’s bed.  
Dean was kind of bluffing. He’d only done this on himself before. Still, he knew that not right felt like. Dean’s heart pounded in his chest. He was breathless. Cas was stunning. He had awesome abs and a tattoo that Dean just wanted to lick. He put that on the list of things he’d do to pleasure Cas. Cas’s cock wasn’t full, but it looked cheerfully interested against his thigh. Dean squeezed his eyes shut, took a deep breath, and pushed through his anxiety. He tumbled forward onto the memory foam mattress.  
“Move.”  
Dean grunted, pushing Cas’s legs open. God he could see everything from this angle. He could even smell Cas. Cas had no business smelling this nice. Dean squeezed a little lube into his hand. Cas reached out for him and caressed his cheek. The touch of his hand was very much like his the way his grace had brushed against Dean’s soul. This was Cas. Perhaps that is what gave Dean the courage to lean forward and take his cock in his hand. Cas made a sound that he liked a lot. It was surprised, breathy, and downright reverent. It lent him courage. Cas liked being touched. Cas was slowly hardening. Dean tightened his grip and gave Cas’s cock a few strokes.  
“Dean.”  
This whole time, Dean had been feeling a steady tug inside. It was the way he often felt when he was around Cas. He could explain it much better now, after the ritual. His soul yearned for closeness. He wanted to touch Cas’s grace. He wanted the tendrils of light to caress him. He wanted to embrace it and engulf it before letting it free. He would have to wait. Dean applied more lube, watching the minute play of muscles in Cas’s face. Dean licked his lips. Cas’s hands kept petting him in that way that reminded Dean of his grace. The first press of a finger to Cas’s ass made Cas jump.  
“Cas, relax…”  
Dean pulled back and ran his other hand over Cas’s thigh. Cas let out a chuckle.  
“I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be.”

Castiel’s grace pulse pulsed with love and longing for Dean. it stretched out, reaching for him. The sensation of Dean’s rough hand on his penis was a pleasurable edge. Castiel was lost in a warm feeling of Dean’s soul, just out of reach, the teasing of his hand, and Dean’s eye’s. The cold, wet finger against his hole startled him out of his trance. Castiel felt his body jump involuntarily. His muscles clenched. Dean’s eyes went wide and he pulled away. Both of his slick hands went to Castiel’s thighs and he stroked them.  
“Cas, relax…”  
The muscles of Castiel’s thighs loosened. He was so tired. His grace was beginning to slip away again. They were wasting time. Dean was taking such care. He longed to touch Dean’s soul again, to curl around it, to burrow into it and snuggle in. Guilt lodged in his throat.  
“I’m sorry.”  
Something flashed across Dean’s face.  
“Don’t be.”  
Dean climbed up his body, he pressed his full weight down on Cas and kissed him. It was like Dean was trying to learn his mouth. Like he was trying to memorize it. Castiel went pliant, allowing his legs to open and letting Dean’s warm, human weight press him into the memory foam. He touched Dean’s face, his hair, his shoulders. Dean hissed and pulled back. Castiel let go of him.  
“Dean?”  
Castiel gazed upon Dean’s shoulder. He had almost forgotten about the fresh brand on Dean’s shoulder. It was identical to the one he had given Dean when he had initiated the ritual all of those years ago. Both he and Dean inspected it for a moment before Dean met his gaze. Dean’s eyes were wet. Castiel reached out a hand and grazed the brand with a feather light touch. Dean’s breath faltered for a moment. His eyes threatened to roll back.  
“Cas.”  
Dean’s gasped and his hips rolled, creating friction that made Castiel moan out loud. Dean sent him a wicked grin.  
“You like it?”  
“I’m touching you. Why wouldn’t I like it?”  
Dean ducked his head, a blush visible on his cheeks. He cleared his throat.  
“At least I don’t have to worry about molesting you then…”  
Castiel knew it was meant as a joke, but he didn’t laugh.  
“Cas, we gotta get a move on man! Look at your arm!”  
Castiel glanced at it. It was now seeping his vessel’s blood and grace. His blood trickled down from the place there he clutched Dean’s forearm and soaked the sheets. Dean leaned over and yanked his pillow case free of his pillow. He ignored Castiel’s feeble protests that a turnacuit would not help him. Dean was a caregiver. His need to help, care for, and give overrode all protest. Castiel’s weak grace swelled with love for him. Castiel pulled him down for a chaste kiss on his lips. They were as soft as they looked.  
“Open the muscles. We must be running out of time.”  
Dean smiled down at him. He had the best human face, even when his eyes were swimming with tears.  
“Only you could make that statement hot.”

Dean went as quickly as he could, while still taking the time to apply extra lube when needed. Being inside of Cas was awesome. He was so hot inside. Hot and silky smooth like… there really isn't anything else like it. Cas made the best little breathy sounds with his deep base of a voice. He kept saying; Dean… and caressing him in that way that reminded Dean of pure angel grace. Cas hadn’t done this before, but he seemed to know the mechanics. His body opened in a way that made Dean oddly proud of him. Dean knew, from cases involving witches and sex magic, that the spells don’t work if you use a rubber. He never went without one, but with Cas, it didn’t bother him that he wasn’t wearing one. They’d given each other a soul/grace bandage. It was the least he could do. Cas gazed up at him with those big doe eyes, looking like there was nowhere else he would rather be. Dean took ahold of his dick so as to guide it in. He watched Cas’s face for pain, but all he saw was swimming blue. Being inside of Cas like this was almost too much. He had to just stop and hold Cas for dear life. Cas was covered in a film of sweat. Cas looped his arms around Dean’s shoulders. Dean focused in on the feeling of Cas. Cas was alive. He was warm, sweating, breathing, and bleeding.  
“I’m alright Dean.”  
Cas told him after a moment of just, being in Cas, and holding him like a damn girl.  
“It feels… Nice… Being one with you…”  
Dean rotated his hips experimentally. He had to get this show on the road. Cas gasped. Once Dean found the angle that made Cas clutch and moan, he took hold of Cas’s dick. He wanted this to go as quickly as it could go. This was pretty good sex and all, but it wouldn’t be worth it if Cas died before they finished. It didn’t take much for Cas to cum, maybe ninety seconds of pressure from both ends. He reached up and grasped Dean’s branded shoulder. His grace rejoiced at the miraculous reunion with Dean’s soul. At the touch of Cas’s grace, Dean came embarrassingly quickly. It took him by complete surprise. The pure love and joy was too much. Grace and soul curled and swirled around each other as they pressed love, safety, and family into each other. Dean laid there in a sweaty, sticky heap on top of Cas for too long. He clutched Cas’s shoulders the way he had earlier, during the ritual. Cas’s grace had diminished, but it was still all Cas. The damn thing felt like it was trying to wrap around him. Dean embraced it, embraced Cas. He held it close and hoped Cas got the message. He didn’t want to have to say it. Not out loud, anyway. He was having a hard time feeling physical things, but then Cas said his name.  
“Dean.”  
He came crashing back to his human body. Cas’s cum was cooling between them. It was gross and sticky. Cas smelled good though, like sweat and sex, and Cas. His scent mixed with the coppery tang of his blood. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Dean pulled back, wincing as his dick slipped free of Cas. Dean leaned over, reluctantly letting go of Cas to grab some tissues. Cas was watching him with the smallest of smiles and half lidded eyes.  
“The bleeding has stopped…”  
Dean’s eyes flickered to Cas’s hand and arm. An ugly roping pink scar had replaced the gaping wound. Cas still looked tired and pale, but he’d get better now.  
“From what I understand, wounds from bonding take time to heal.”  
Cas still hadn’t moved, but Dean was trying to clean him up, so he just moved Cas where he needed him. He even waited patiently while Dean went to get a bowl and some washcloths.  
“I need some fresh sheets too. Your arm is gonna stick to those if you let it dry like that. Cas went without question, allowing Dean to wipe help him sit on the floor and wrap a grey blanket around him. After changing the sheets, Dean insisted on wiping Cas down.  
“It sucks to have cum all over you.”  
Dean chuckled, flushing and ducking his head. Cas had this look on his face. It was this ‘so happy, I could die’ expression that both made Dean want to run and never leave all at once.  
Castiel still couldn’t believe what it had felt like to meld with Dean’s soul. He’d liked the sex too. Being close to and touching Dean was always nice. Being so full of nothing but Dean had been sinfully good. Touching Dean’s soul was a different story. All he’d wanted to do was… rub it, protect it, caress it, press declarations into it over and over. That is what he had done. The shocking thing was that Dean’s soul had rubbed itself all over his grace with enthusiasm. Dean had plastered himself to Castiel’s bleeding grace as if he could staunch the bleeding just from the passionate declarations of his soul. Perhaps that is what he had needed. Perhaps the spiritual intertwining was the act of love that had been required to heal him, because he was now healed. Castiel was blown away by the way Dean’s soul had shouted declarations of love for him.  
Castiel knew that Dean would be hard pressed to say anything like that out loud. Castiel himself had been pressing gentle sentiments of love and devotion. Dean helped him back into bed. Castiel was speechless. Dean was so good. Castiel felt raw and a little sore, but it was right. He pulled Dean down until Dean let himself be kissed, coming away breathless. Dean was smiling down at him, in disbelief.  
“Someone likes kissing.”  
Castiel hummed. Dean’s lips were pillowy and plush. Castiel enjoyed learning the cellular structure of Dean’s mouth. Tasting him down to the molecules. Communicating without words that Castiel loved him.  
“Do you mind?”  
“Um… No! No.”  
Castiel ran the tip of his finger over the bridge of Dean’s nose. Dean made one of the faces that he made when Castiel did things he didn’t understand.  
“What?”  
Castiel hugged him. Just held him and enjoyed his warmth.  
“Cas, I don’t cuddle.”  
“I want to hold you.”  
Dean gave up as Cas wound his arms around his shoulders and kissed his neck. It wasn’t exactly like cuddling. The scrape of Cas’s stubble was really nice against his skin. Cas’s lips were chapped and cracked, but perfect. His arms were powerful. Dean knew their strength, yet they practically cradled him now, like he could break if Cas squeezed too tight. Dean supposed Cas could really hurt him like this. He could crack his ribs, break his spine, rupture organs, but his arms were gentle. Dean dared to let the word ‘reverent’ enter his mind as Cas stroked his back. Cas had good, soft hands.  
“Hey, What did it mean?”  
“Hm?”  
“The enochian, from the ritual. You were super fixated on it. What was I saying?”  
Cas buried his face in the space between Dean’s ear and shoulder. It made him giggle.  
“Cas?”  
“It is a very angelic way of expressing deep devotion. I have to paraphrase. The enochian used is ancient and does not translate to english well. It goes something like this;  
My intent is to be bound to you. I consent to this bondage. With this part of myself, I promise to never let harm come to you. I will protect you as you protect me. My life is yours, as your life is mine. Let our love shine as a beacon from heaven. We are one.”  
Dean could see why Cas, who could really be a big girl sometimes, had gotten all choked up about that. It did seem pretty angelic. The whole ‘I consent’ thing with shining beacons. Still, it was nice.  
“I liked that you were saying it, even though I didn’t think you meant it.”  
“I gotta call bullshit on that Cas.”  
“When have you ever indicated that you may be interested in me romantically Dean? I bound myself to you through my actions, but…”  
Cas raised his head so that he could look at Dean. His eyes were so shiny and wet. They swam, as if Cas may cry.  
“I've been so unhappy all this time. The one thing I want is the one thing I thought I couldn’t have.”  
The way Cas was running his finger tips over his face was so tender that it almost hurt.  
“I had come to terms that happiness was not in the having for me.”  
Dean wasn’t having this shit. He squeezed Cas so tightly that it would have hurt a human. This whole thing was giving him flashbacks of that time Cas had started using phrases like ‘kill myself.’ He was so glad Cas had asked for help at all. The realization that he could have arrived back from a hunt to find a dead angel was upsetting, but not surprising. Cas had a tendency to feel like he was “bothering” him or Sam when he asked for help.  
Dean forgot that he didn’t cuddle and let a very vulnerable looking Cas cling to him. Cas was making this humming sound. They were both shaking and Cas’s eyes were wet. Dean had to kiss him. What else was there for it? He’d felt Cas, down to his grace. It had been pretty scary, but Cas loved him. He was purely devoted, utterly lost, and it made sense. Maybe Dean hadn’t seen it before because he didn’t want to. Maybe he had seen it, but was too chickenshit to admit that he knew what it was. A lot of stuff Cas said and did were making even more sense now. Cas had thrown his family away, given up an army, and cured Dean from being a demon with Sam. Cas had been about to kill him, but his declarations of need had been enough to bring Cas out of the trance. Dean had been about to confess his love. If Cas really did kill him, then he didn’t want anything left unsaid. Dean had choked and said “need” instead, which had been enough. Not to mention the way Cas looked at him, like he saw someone worth living for. His eyes said; you are worth my time, you're worth everything I do for you, and so much more. The ‘I love you you silly human’ was there too, but Dean had chalked it up to Cas being Cas. Cas was a weird, dorky guy. How was Dean supposed to know what he was thinking? The problem with that was that Dean could read Cas. Cas wasn’t when compared to humans, but he had a subtle way of holding his weight, moving his shoulders, using his eyes to talk without saying anything. Dean knew exactly what Cas was telling him through long, heated glances, and just swallowed it with bottle after bottle of booze. Dean hadn’t wanted Cas to return his affection, because that meant losing more if he lost Cas. Dean loved the feathery bastard. His soul had probably been all over Cas. How embarrassing.

Cas’s whistling snore interrupted Dean’s spiraling thoughts. Cas shouldn’t have to sleep, but he must be pretty torn up after that Attack Dog spell, and he had lost a lot of… well, angel blood. Dean made a mental note to get him a gatorade or something and make him something to eat later just in case. He did really have to admit that sleeping Cas was a pretty funny and adorable concept. Last time he had commented on it, Sam had shot him down with a big old “angels don’t sleep.” Here Cas was, snoozing away. His cheek was pillowed on Dean’s shoulder, the one with the fresh ritual brand. Dean just kind of held Cas and waited for the other shoe to drop. Dean wasn’t going to get to just have this. There was going to be a catch. When Sam called, Dean was able to fish his phone out of his discarded pants pocket. Cas grumbled.  
“Must you move?”  
Dean answered the phone he whispered. Cas pressed closer, sighing.  
“Sammy, hey!”  
“You guys just disappeared. Is Cas okay?”  
“He’s good. We just had to complete the ritual. I think he’s gonna need a lot of rest.  
“I am. I’m resting now.”  
Clearly Cas was not cool with being woken up. He was grumbly and grumpy. At the same time, he was nuzzled and scraped his beard over Dean’s tattoo. Sam made a really annoying voice, like he knew exactly what was going on.  
“Complete the ritual, huh?”  
“Shut up.”  
Sam laughed at him.  
“So the bleeding stopped. Anything else we can do to help him heal?”  
“You can get off of the phone.”  
Cas snarked. Dean barked with laughter, even as Sam went silent and Cas pressed his perfect self against Dean’s skin.  
“Seriously Cas.”  
Dean asked.  
“What can Sam and me do?”  
Cas stayed quiet for a moment. Dean had never seen him quite so relaxed.  
“I think I shouldn’t go into battle for some time. My grace will need time to replenish. Systaining my body may require the occasional meal, glass of water, and nap while I am depleted. Dean, stay close. It may help if you are near. My grace is more at ease with you because of the bond. It may heal more quickly while I’m in your company.”  
Sam made a sound that was somewhere between a snort, and a cough. Dean just nodded.  
“Aw you just like having me around, you big softy.”  
Dean teased, mostly to annoy Sam.  
“I’m hanging up.”  
“Wait Sam. Can you make extra dinner for Cas tonight?”  
Sam chuckled. It was good to hear him laugh. Cas insisted that Sam needn’t do that. He had found his own food as a human. Sam and Dean both shot him down.  
“After I kicked you out. If you want to stay Cas, you'll stay until you’re better! Stay longer if you want. No going hungry for you!”  
“Yeah Cas.”  
Sam insisted.  
“It's just a little extra food. We can handle it. Besides, I think Dean would literally die if you starved.”  
Dean yelled goodbye into the phone before he hung up, hot in the face. Cas was silent for a moment. He wasn’t relaxed any more. His muscles were hard and rigid. Dean found himself running a hand over them to see what they felt like. Cas had soft skin, but he was firm. It was nice. Dean wanted to stay in bed with him forever.  
“How you feeling Cas?”  
“Sore.”  
Dean chuckled.  
“Bad sore, or like dull ache?”  
“Sort of low and throbbing…”  
Heat pooled low in Dean’s gut. It shouldn’t sound as hot as it did, but Cas’s low voice made the words sound sound downright sinful.  
“Good. It doesn’t sound like I hurt you.”  
Cas nodded. His stubble was rough against the skin of Dean’s chest. Cas was going to give him a friction burn.  
“Good. I was worried I’d break you, just like I break everything else.”  
He said it as a joke. It wasn’t like it wasn't true. He really had been worried that Cas was now damaged because Dean had touched him. Cas took hold of Dean’s face in his hands. It was not the first time Cas had pinned him with those otherworldly eyes. It was always like Cas really saw him when he looked at him like that.  
“I know how you see yourself Dean.”  
Cas’s smile was something he had never seen before. His eyes were soft and large, and so, so blue.  
“You see yourself how our enemies see you. You’re destructive and you’re angry you’re broken. You’re daddy’s blunt little instrument. You think that hate and anger; that’s what defines you. That’s who you are.”  
Dean’s eyes darted down and he licked his lips.  
“But it's not and everyone who knows you, sees it. Everything you have ever done, the good and the bad, you have done for love.”  
Dean shook his head, but Cas held firm. Cas’s eyes were red rimmed, and there were tears in them.  
“What are you talking about?”  
Dean croaked.  
“You raised your little brother for love. You fought for this whole world, for love. That's who you are.”  
Cas had sad eyes again. It was Dean’s fault again. He didn’t know how a single self deprecating joke had spiraled into sad eyed Cas making untrue statements like this. Cas seemed to think they were true.  
“You are the most caring man on earth. You are the most selfless, loving, human being I will ever know.”  
A tear fell from Cas’s face onto Dean’s cheek. Dean wanted to run away, but Cas was on top of him, physically pinning him down. He also rooted him there with words that Dean wanted to believe, but couldn’t. Cas stroked his cheek, looking happier than he had any right to look for someone who was crying.  
“You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of hell… Knowing you has changed me… Because you care, I care. I care about you, I care about Sam, I care about the whole world because of you. You changed me Dean.”  
Cas placed a light kiss on his forehead.  
“I love you.”  
Cas sighed, smiling into his skin. Dean's heart ached. He knew Cas loved him, felt it in his grace. It felt different hearing it, like a flood gate was open and Cas was free. Cas was kissing him all over the face.  
“Why did that sound like a goodbye?”  
He asked, to chickenshit to say it back.  
“After Rowena’s spell broke and you left with Sam, I had some time to think once I learned I was dying. What would I say to you? I figured that happiness is in just saying it. I should give you the option to say it if you return my feelings. I knew this was unlikely, but I want you to be happy.”  
Of course he did. It was so like Cas to think of Dean’s happiness, even while he was bleeding out. That poor selfless son of a bitch.  
“Well this isn’t goodbye.”  
Dean’s voice broke and cleared his throat. Then he just wrapped his arms around Cas’s waist. He just kissed him nice and gentle for a while.  
“You felt it right? I felt yours. When I touched your grace? You know I uh… That I love you too Cas. You know that right?”  
There it was, out in the open. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to repeat himself. It was hard enough to say it once. Those ‘three little words’ as all the soppy, lovesick losers always said. They weren’t little. They were huge, scary, words. Once he said them, it was like this giant weight had been lifted from his heart. It was like something toxic had been removed to make room for nothing but his love for Cas and everything that it meant to be them.  
What had those little girls said? Destiel? That was dumb. Sam was probably going to start making Deastiel jokes now. They didn’t need a couple names. They could have some kind of happiness together. Cas and Sam were his family. He had them both, so everything was going to be fine.


End file.
